


Confessions in the Late Night Air

by Officer_Jennie



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [15]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Budding Relationship, M/M, Slight Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-28 18:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: Madara finds himself wanting more than just a physical relationship, though the gods only knew what he was supposed to do with all of thesefeelings. Bottling them up and chucking them to the side usually works well enough for him. He could only hope that strategy wouldn't fail him now.Or: Both Madara and Tobirama are awful at talking to people, and they're the last people to figure it all out.





	Confessions in the Late Night Air

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kage88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kage88/gifts).



> Heard through the grapevine that it was someone's birthday :)

There was a significant and traitorous part of himself that wanted to ask Tobirama to stay. To not leave him alone in the futon, graced fingers and lips still recent in his memory, heart and mind yet to have calmed after their coupling. That particular part of himself had become quite vocal in the past few weeks, much to his ever growing horror, and it seemed unwilling to let him keep their late-night rendezvous promise of ‘no strings attached.’

Vocal within himself, anyway. He’d thankfully managed to keep it to himself, though Izuna’s knowing smirk had become more and more obnoxious as of late, as had Hashirama’s not so subtle elbow jabs he subjected him to every time they so much as walked near the younger Senju sibling.

Madara buried his face in his pillow to stifle a groan. He knew what all of those looks meant. Apparently, everyone was certain Madara had  _feelings_  - feelings that he had not once consented to, mind. Worse still was that traitorous side that  _agreed_  with them.

Hashirama had said peace would be easier. He turned his head to the side, trying to blow the hair out of his face with little success. At this point, war seemed like the better option. Dancing had always come easy to him. Much easier than these blasted  _emotions_  that had infected him.

It took an embarrassing amount of time before Madara realized that Tobirama had yet to leave. In his defense, albeit a weak one, the Senju had  _mostly_  left, and he didn’t usually make a habit of tracking his movements through the house like he did most of his guests. But he focused in on him now, shifting around to get more comfortable on his stomach, frowning at the discolored edge of Tobirama’s chakra.

Something was making him uncomfortable. Making him hesitate in the living room. A quick check confirmed that they were alone in the house, just as he’d thought, so it couldn’t be a person causing his unease.

He didn’t have time to ponder it long, because soon Tobirama was making his way back to him. A wave of giddy relief had Madara scowling at himself, and he fumbled around with the sheets until he managed to throw one over his head. Entirely so he didn’t have to deal with the company, of course. Not because of how stupidly happy he got every time they spent time together. And it certainly had nothing to do with the heat on his face. Which wasn’t there, because he did  _not_ flush like some academy child with a crush.

It was also important to note that he was not  _hiding_. He was merely choosing to lay low beneath the sheet and gather more intel on why Tobirama was coming back to begin with. Laying low in such an obvious place might also seem like a bad decision on his part, but he had years of experience tricking his younger brothers into thinking him asleep (the brats loved to torment him with their nonsense, but it was no secret that Madara struggled to sleep. Even Daigoro, the youngest and most rambunctious of the five siblings, didn’t care to disturb what little peace the eldest managed to get).

The door creaked as Tobirama let himself back in, the bamboo frame purposely left imperfect to make sure no one could enter silently. For the life of him, Madara didn’t know what he might be back for, except that maybe he had forgotten something - he certainly knew what he  _hoped_  Tobirama wanted (to crawl back into the futon, to spend the night, to suddenly declare that he would be moving in and would be spending the rest of his life with him, maybe a sprinkle of undying love and affection) but he also knew just how unlikely any of that was. He had never seen anything beyond the expected lust in Tobirama’s features when they were alone. Not a hint of something else, something softer or more affectionate.

Of course, it was always hard to tell with the Senju. He was hardly an open book.

“Are you awake?”

The quiet tone suggested Tobirama thought not, and Madara was more than willing to let him continue that line of thought. A nearly inaudible sigh followed the few minutes of silence, the futon dipping under Tobirama’s weight as he sat next to him.

Well, so much for his first guess. Only the gods could truly know what Tobirama wanted from him, since he was fully dressed, sitting on top of the covers, the silence once again stretching in the air between them. The awkward edge to the situation was making Madara keenly aware of his own state of undress - though, really, he had no need to feel awkward about it, since Tobirama was the one who had ripped his clothes off in the first place. It was just a bit odd for one of them to be more dressed than the other; usually their clothes were shucked off one right after the other.

Maybe pretending to be asleep wasn’t the best idea after all. He could simply ask what he needed. They did both have that meeting to attend the next morning, and if they stayed up much longer-

“I like you.”

It took every ounce of his self control not to choke at that confession. From the strain in his voice, the words hadn’t been easy for Tobirama to say either. He let out a long, slow breath after them, the futon shifting as he inched closer.

“I like you.” If his tone was anything to go by, the second time was easier. “And not just as a...  _coitus companion_  either.”

Coitus companion? All of Madara’s being wanted to snort at the awkward phrasing, only managing to stay quiet from the dulling shock from the confession. Really, for someone who so eagerly sucked his cock the Senju was so easily flustered.

“I just...” Tobirama’s next exhale so clearly showed his frustration, and it took him some time to continue. “I’m not good at this sort of thing. Talking.  _Feelings_. I just wish I knew what to do.”

“You could take me to dinner.”

The look of sheer flustered panic on Tobirama’s face was worth the blown cover. As was the minute of sputtering, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the wide-eyes and the scarlet shade his entire face and neck had turned. He could’ve gone without being smothered by a pillow in response (apparently, Tobirama took exception to his continued snickering) but, in the end, Madara was pretty sure he’d come out on top of this situation.

Hashirama was always going on about how people needed to discuss their  _feelings_. Yet here Madara was, Tobirama grumbling and tucked into his chest, the promise of a private dinner between the two of them and hopefully more to come - and all he’d had to do was lay there and look pretty.

**Author's Note:**

> Also for the prompt "Things you said when you thought I was asleep"
> 
> Names:  
> Daigoro (大五郎) - literally "great fifth son"


End file.
